


Losing Lisbon

by Imagine036



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Jisbon, and sad, from an outside perspective, sam is grumpy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 14:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14916953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagine036/pseuds/Imagine036
Summary: This takes place in the second season, during the episode Black, Gold, and Red Blood.Essentially, Sam Bosco reflecting on his observations of Lisbon and Jane's relationship.





	Losing Lisbon

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my mass migration of Mentalist fic over to AO3!

I knew the first time I saw them together. They were in her office, arguing. He was leaning against the doorframe, relaxed and smug while she bent over some sort of paperwork on her desk, trying to look stern and displeased. Judging from the height of the papers, she was just beginning the weekly duty of cleaning up after him. I could tell from his posture that he was smiling, laughing maybe. She was not so pleased, but I caught a hint of a smile on her lips, a trace of amusement in her eyes as she glanced up.

 

If it had been anyone else she would have torn a strip off them, glared at them until they couldn’t bear to look into her eyes any longer. I know that look; I’ve had it focused on me on more than one occasion. Yet she spares him her anger, instead feeding her amusement right into the palm of his hand.

 

Surely she doesn’t realize that she’s being played. He doesn’t care about her. He’s so hell bent on revenge that it’s all he can think about. He ploughs through cases with superhuman speed, leaving a disaster in his wake but never looking back long enough to care. As if on cue, she follows behind with a broom and a dust pan, sweeping up all the broken glass and tying it neatly into bags. It’s disgusting. She deserves so much better than to be trampled over by that empty shell of a man. She means nothing to him; she’s his pawn in the ultimate game of chess, and it’s going to end with her in a coffin and him behind bars. I can’t bear that.

 

I made it clear to her that she couldn’t trust him, yet she does. It’s very disconcerting that she can keep herself so guarded, and yet open up to the one person she should be guarded around. Patrick Jane is always looking for an angle. He latches onto anything he can use as leverage, like a leech.

 

That’s a good word to describe him: a leech. He isn’t here because he wants to help, or because he cares. He’s here because the CBI can give him what he needs. Minnelli didn’t want him involved with Red John at all after the murders, but you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who can refuse that man. She may be the only one, but she’s losing focus. The lines are blurring and she’s making no effort to stop them. He’s changing her. I see the way she lights up when he’s around, just a little more than she should. He’s ruining who she used to be.

 

I recognized the look she gave me when I had him arrested. Unintentionally, he’s become one of her cubs, one of her team. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The day she found out she was gaining the consultant she burst into my office, complaining about it. Now look at them.

 

It’s a disgrace. I don’t care who he manages to corrupt in this office, just so long as he stays away from her, but I can see that I’m far too late. He’s got her under his spell, and I can’t break it. She scoffed at me the last time I tried to intervene, telling me he makes her a better cop. _A better cop._ As if. He’s already got those two clowns following him around, breaking rules; he can’t have her, too.

 

The knock on my door startles me and I glance up from the paperwork I haven’t really been reading. It’s her. She looks uncomfortable, and I know why she’s here: to do what the others can’t. Sure Bert and Ernie can flaunt their brawn and promise to do anything for him, but promises mean nothing to me, and I got my own muscle. They’ve definitely come to the end of their rope and, judging by the look on her face, so has she.

 

“Look, Sam, I thought it would teach him a lesson, y’know? But nothing’s going to change. Just let him go.”

 

“You know I can’t do that, Teresa.”

 

I see the shift of determination in her face, the way her jaw clenches the tiniest bit, and the way her eyes harden. I can see her struggling with herself, debating on whether or not to actually do it, debating whether he’s worth it.

 

“Let him go, Sam… Or I’ll talk. I’ll talk about what happened eight years ago.”

 

My heart sinks. She’s made her final decision. Whatever she sees in that man, it’s strong enough to blackmail her oldest colleague.

 

“You sure you want to go down this road?”

 

She hesitates for only the briefest of seconds, “Let him go. Let him go or I’ll talk.”

 

“You would really do this? Risk our careers for him? _Our_ careers, Teresa.”

 

Her voice fails her as she nods, avoiding my eyes.

 

“Does he really mean that much to you?” I ask, dreading the answer.

 

“He closes cases.”

 

“He closes cases? We both know it’s more than that.”

 

She doesn’t answer, and in that instant, I know. He means much more to her than I ever did. She didn’t threaten anyone for me. She covered her own ass, which just happened to cover mine. I don’t need to ask the final question as she rises from her chair, holding her emotions carefully below the surface, but it slips out anyway.

 

“Is he really worth it?”

 

She doesn’t hesitate this time as she bites out the one word I least wanted to hear:

 

“Yes.”

 

And just like that, Teresa Lisbon walks out the door of my office, and I know I’ve lost her to him.


End file.
